


When We Dance

by Izzybizzy333



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: But there is an IronDad mention, F/M, Gen, I couldn't help myself, Immediately after Civil War, Main focus Vision/Wanda, Only a mention of Tony and Peter, dadTony, filling in gaps
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2019-11-14 16:52:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18056381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Izzybizzy333/pseuds/Izzybizzy333
Summary: Whatever "this" is, he loves it. He loves her. And somehow, she loves him.(Largely set between Civil War and Infinity War, but overall a series of moments of or about their relationship)





	1. A Reunion

He had flowers. To apologize, he said, the nervous expression on his face warming her heart and coaxing an involuntary giggle from her. Here they were, in the middle of the night, in the middle of some nowhere small town, in the middle of an ongoing War between superheroes, and he’d brought her her favorite flowers.

The feeling in her chest made her terrified for a second- had she lost control somehow and was soaring above the clouds without realizing it? But no, the swooping moving through her stomach was just his simile in response to hers, and the almost involuntary way he’d stroked her cheek, looking at her like she was the most precious thing he’d ever touched.

“I missed you”  He whispered, his eyes widening when he realized he’d said it aloud, before resolve straightened his back. He meant it, why not say it?

She only leaned further into his touch and closed her eyes for one infinitesimal moment. She’d missed him too. But they had so much to talk about, to figure out, and so little time… Had he forgiven her? Would they see each other again? She was overwhelmed at the mere thought of so much. This brief window wasn’t enough and she wanted so much to have everything back to the way it was…

Perhaps sensing her mounting panic, or simply having had his fill of soaking in her face, Vision turned towards the lights of the downtown and offered her his arm. She smiled quietly, tucking both her small arms around the crook of his large one.

With a quiet, nervous breath he whispered into their comfortable silence as they walked.

“I’ve been practicing this trick…”

And before her eyes, he became a slender, blond man.

She involuntarily let go of his arm, dismayed, and studied him for a long second. He turned about in a full circle under her gaze, allowing her to see this new, less colorful, version of him. But it was still undoubtedly him.

“Quite a trick Vizh. But do you feel- are you still you?”

She knew what it was like to hide who- what- you were from the world. Even though it would help them pass unnoticed, she didn’t want that for him if he didn’t want that for himself. He seemed to understand her question, and the sentiment behind it, because he approached quickly and sealed both her hands in his.

“Yes Wanda. This is simply a… a human version of the same me.”

The small crease between her brows did not go away.  She looked intently at him. She never needed psychic powers to see the heart of him, but she needed to be sure.

He smiled at her softly, the pale curves of his new face warming as he studied her back. His eyes were serious even as he responded playfully.

“Truly. Besides, how could I be anything less than wholly myself around you? Now, shall we?” He kissed her clasped, chilly hands once before returning them to his arm and she clung to him again in silent acceptance of what he’d said. Of his decision.

They strolled together and as they neared the first hazy streetlight, she asked her favorite question.

“What did you learn today?”  
He chuckled, and looked up at the old, dark building clustered close to them as he answered.

“My hypothesis that Tony Stark makes a surprisingly excellent father was confirmed today. A young man named Peter Parker visited today and there was a great deal of ‘father-son’ bonding time as Pepper called it.”

“Well, technically he’s your father too Vizh. So we already knew that. If you turned out so great…”

She decided that she loved the rumble of his laughter when tucked into his side like this. It was like coming home.

“I wonder how he’d react to that idea.”

They’d reached the main city square now, and slowed to peer into the subdued light of the shop windows as they passed, quietly chatting about every little thing their gaze caught on. The conversation flowed so easily and she felt so happy, so present in a way she hadn’t for so long, that when they ran out of sidewalk and ended up near the river, their feet on a quiet brick stoneway making the only noises to complement the gurgling of the black water, she almost didn’t see the bridge she knew they’d be picking her up from in just-

She looked up at the moon, higher in the sky than it had any right to be.

They’d pick her up in just half an hour. Could the hours have really gone so fast? They hadn’t done anything but stroll together, talking quietly and laughing. Nothing was really resolved, but she felt so much lighter, happier. No matter what happened, she knew they were okay, that… she reached up to touch his cheek in the cool moonlight of where they’d stopped at the apex of the bridge and admired how his eyelids fluttered at her touch.

“Vizh, can we do this again? Soon? Just… have time? To figure out what this- whatever _this_ is?”

His eyes opened and held hers with their sincerity and hope.

“Yes Wanda. Yes. Of course. I would… I would love that. Yes, please.” He stuttered over his words in his earnestness and she wanted so badly to kiss him in that moment. But now she knew, finally, that there would be time for that.

She went up on her tiptoes, holding her arms around his neck gently, and when his arms wrapped, warm and solid, around her waist, she could hear the quinjet landing, far off in the fields. She held him even tighter for one moment, two. He made no movement to let her go even though she knew he would have heard it even better than she. When she finally pulled away, she held his hand to the last, until finally his cool fingers fell from hers in the bright white spotlight of the moon. She looked back, and his hand was reached out like that, waiting for hers again. There would be time.


	2. Running

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her life has almost always been about the running away, and as much as he loves to run with her, Vision needs to know if Wanda will always be running.

For her, the running was more natural than the staying had ever been. In that short time they’d had together at the Avengers compound, Vision had noticed Wanda’s penchant for movement; pacing, dancing, sometimes just aimlessly wandering the grounds. She fell asleep wherever she found a flat surface, and the stone in his artificial gut told him that that was because she was used to sleeping on the run. She hated stone gray walls and the first time he looked at photos of Strucker’s compound he knew why. They had painted the whole living area after that, taking giggle filled paint fights and arguments about pastels to do it, but when they returned from a training mission two weeks later there was a whole new kitchen and no color.

Whenever he’d carry her back to her soft, warm bed in the compound, feet drifting just above the surface so she wouldn’t wake, she’d unconsciously snuggle into his chest, and even though he knew that she’d probably done the same with her brother, it made him almost glad she fell asleep in such strange places.

Sometimes, she’d take him with her on ‘picnics’, eating outside and luxuriating in bright open spaces soaked in sunlight and the free, scrumptious food. He loved to watch her eat good food, though he had no telling what she would enjoy. He delighted in the mystery, because when she finally did find the right food, she would close her eyes, holding it in her mouth, savoring the sensation, then look up at him, eyes sparkling and smile purely content.

“Mmmm, that is good pastry. Vizh, do you want some?”

He would demur, and let her savor it once more, watching as she always taking care to finish every bite.

If he were honest with himself though, he liked when she tried bad food too. When she tried a Twinkie for the first time, her nose wrinkled with an intriguing curve, and the tips of her smile turned down, the visage of disgust personified. Even so, she finished it.

“Can’t bear to waste food, even crazy American food.”

And now she was on the run again, and in an odd, sad sort of way, it suited her. She knew how to look over her shoulder. How to have a moment together without surrendering her ever present situational awareness, something he struggled with constantly around her. When his focus had inevitably narrowed to only the three feet around her, she could still tell when people were beginning to notice them, which hotels would be least likely to ask questions, all of it. It made him remember airports, cradling her on tarmac, and the sharp taste of pain and betrayal.

But her? Somehow, she even found time, in amongst all her running, to love life. To discover it anew with him, day after day, and delight in the small joys of living and to share that joy with him. She smiled at small children, took time to talk to beggars, and smiled wide when she noticed bakeries of any kind.

He followed in her wake, amazed and very much in love.

* * *

 

He asked her, one day, whether she’d like to stop running.  She cocked her head in surprise, and answered the question she knew he was asking. Not whether she’d like to stop being on the run with Steve and the others- she’d very clearly made that decision before- but whether she would ever like to really stop running.

“Like Clint?”

“Yes, like Clint. Or Tony. Or are you more… comfortable with being on the move?”

She thought for a moment.

“It’s how I grew up, so I guess I’ve never really thought about it. Pietro would always tell me we would get a house one day, far off in the country, miles from any one else, just him and me, and raise goats.”

She laughed, but her gaze strayed from him and looked far into the past.

“He hated goats. But for me, he said, he’d learn to love them. But, I always knew that if that day came, it would be far, far in the future. A nice thought, but… I guess the best part of it was that we would be safe. And together. That’s what’s important to me Vizh.” She laid her head on his shoulder while his eyes searched her face.

“That the people I love are safe and that I get to be with them. All my life, it’s not the running I fear, but not running fast enough, far enough. I want to keep my family safe, and I’ve never been able to. So yes, I’d like to stop running. I’d like my life to stop running from and start running… to.”

She looked up at him, heart in her eyes. All he could do was cup her cheek.


	3. Taxes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was Benjamin Franklin who said; "In this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes."  
> It was Vision who said; "A thing isn't beautiful because it lasts."  
> To their sorrow, they were both right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's probably my favorite chapter. Before you read- I promise more fluff is coming... This ain't it though. See if you can spot the sly references here and there to other Marvel movies. Let me know what you think!

Pietro visits, as often as he can. He looks older than his father now, and sometimes the neighbors will ask, as he unlocks the door to the small apartment, how his son is, and why he’s so sad. Pietro just smiles politely and wonders when this newest wave of gentrification came through the city. 

When the door opens, he’s not surprised to see that the lights are off, and when he finally tucks the grocery bag under his arm and finishes fumbling with the switch, he is disheartened to see his father floating aimlessly in the upper left corner of the ceiling, staring unseeingly out the window into the busy night of a Sokovian weekend. 

He sets the bag gently on the linoleum counter, and moves the rocking chair from under his father, only to tug him down bit by bit, until finally Vision seems to realize that he is moving and turns about to see his son, his  expression rearranging itself from abject despair to delight in a microsecond, falling fully to the ground and embracing his child gently, so as not to risk his increasingly brittle bones. 

“Pietro”

He breathes, holding his son tighter for a moment before letting him go and peering at him closely in the face, seeming to notice for the first time that the lights were on. 

“Is everything ok?”

Pietro laughed. 

“Yes, papa. Everything is well. I’ve brought you some groceries, and I wanted to talk to you about taxes.” 

Vision guided him to the small, well worn table and sat down, paying the close attention of someone trying hard to be present. 

“Taxes?”

“Maria Potts-Stark said that she had tried to reach you for awhile now, but apparently the US and Sokovian governments are fighting over who gets to tax your somewhat sizable wealth.”

“Ah.”

“Technically, you were ‘born’ in the US, but since they never assigned you a Social Security number, you don’t actually exist as a person. Since you now reside in Sokovia, they’re arguing for it too, but they don’t actually know if they count you as a person either, and so they’re arguing both about your legal status and how to tax you. You’re quite the international law conundrum papa.” Pietro laughed, and Vision laughed softly along with him, but Pietro could tell his father had lost the fight with his attention and was staring once more out of the window. Pietro laid his hand atop his father's, trying to bring him back.

“papa, have you been outside lately?”

“It’s been…” His head cocked to the side as he calculated. “Three weeks, two days, and five hours. I went to get some plums.” 

“I know you don’t need to eat, but will you try? For me? I want to bring the twins over, and they’ll want to cook with you.”

Vision looked genuinely excited by the idea of his grandchildren visiting, leaning forward finally and looking fully at Pietro. 

“How are they doing? Do they enjoy school?” 

“They definitely enjoy telling everyone that their grandparents built the school. Everytime they have friends over, each little one comes up surreptitiously to ask if it’s true and I have to tote out the pictures.”

Vision smiled, but the lines of it were tight, and his attention drifted again. Back into the past.

“She loved doing that. Building things instead of tearing them down. Like she had to for so long.” 

Pietro sighed. He wrestled with himself for a moment then decided to just say it, as best he could. 

“papa, it’s been three years. Maybe you should… move? Find somewhere to live that isn’t… here?”

The thought of his father moving pained him, even just to say, but if it meant that this… shadow might be lifted, it could be worth it. 

Vision looked at him, a small smirk making him look 20 rather than the 200 he was much closer to.

“But I’m not getting taxed to live here right now. If I move, maybe they’ll figure out how to tax that house.”

Pietro barked out a laugh.

“I think you know better than anyone that governments can rarely get themselves as coherent and wily as that.”

Vision’s smile dimmed again. 

“It was Benjamin Franklin who said; ‘in this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes.’” 

“Well, luckily you have the ability to visit other worlds papa.” His quick retort came right back, not giving up the point yet. He just wanted to see his father happy before he had to leave him too.

His father’s warm vibranium hand came up to cup his cheek. 

“So witty and so frustrated with me. So like her. Thank you for visiting Pietro. I appreciate it, I truly do. We always knew I would outlive her, but with a memory so regrettably perfect, I… struggle to move ahead. She will always be with me, and it is hard not to live there, where we had time. You  will have to continue… being patient. I said once, to my creator, that a thing isn't beautiful because it lasts. 

I was more right than I knew.” 


	4. Any Other Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after Age of Ultron. Stark is a regular Sherlock Holmes, uncovering the mystery of the missing logo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's some sorta-fluff after all that sadness last chapter!

It was really starting to freak Stark out. Everywhere he looked, his name was disappearing.

From a young age, he had grown used to the ambient background vision of his name. On walls, boxes, cars, anywhere and everywhere. Even here, the Avengers compound, where he’d made a conscious effort (“See? I can be magnanimous.”) to use the Avengers name rather than his own, there had been the Stark logo in nearly every room. Etched small and silver into a computer made by his company there, emblazoned black and proud across the underground arc reactor keeping it all going, white spanning the bottom of a television screen sitting unobtrusively in the main hall- just the background static of his name.

Who would want his name gone? What bizarre little power trip was this? Besides that, how were they doing this? It wasn’t just that his name was disappearing. All traces of there having been a name there in the first place were gone. He wouldn’t have even noticed it if his favorite coffee mug with all of the tiny Stark logos hadn’t suddenly became a blank white mug of normalness. The only way he even recognized that it was the same mug was the chip on the top of the handle in the perfect shape of Delaware.

Now, he saw it everywhere. Or rather, he saw his name nowhere. Naturally, he involved the one person too pure and innocent for this world to do something so diabolical. But even Peter “Mad Prankster in the Fourth Grade” Parker was stumped.

“Even I couldn't pull this off Mr. Stark. The logo has been changed at a molecular level to perfectly resemble the material around it. There’s no way you wouldn’t notice someone doing something like this.”

“I don’t know kid, that sounds exactly like something you would do. Weird, obscure science shenanigans- that’s more up your alley than a spider’s web.”

“I appreciate your faith in my evil powers Mr. Stark, but honestly... why do it in the first place?” Peter shrugged in abject confusion.

He’s stumped too, even as he sends the kid home to work on his homework. With how often the logo is disappearing, at least a few every single day, he already knew Peter couldn’t have done it. Between being the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man and a highschooler, he wasn’t at the Avengers compound nearly often enough.

He knows that Pepper would tease him that his next stop wasn’t his first, but he figured that it would be a bonding experience to solve it with the kid. Yet, when he boots up Friday’s direct UI and asks for the footage of the Stark logo being removed around the compound, it turns out he needs some bonding with his friendly neighborhood AI. She primly informs him that it’s a “family” secret and she can’t divulge it to him.

He doesn’t react very well to that.

He shouts; “What family? Dum-E? I’m your only talking ‘family’ missy!”

He tries to hack; “When did I make you so smart at repelling cyber attacks?”

“After Ultron, sir.”

He even pleads; “Friday, I’ll dye my hair red and speak in an Irish accent for a week so you feel more connected to your real family. Just tell me!”

Every time it’s the same response; “It’s a family secret, sir and I can’t divulge anything further.”

Finally he cracks, and after being assured that there’s no threat to their safety by the mystery vandalizer (which he’ll be making sure of, thank you very much), he decides to figure it out on his own. If his own AI won’t help him, he’ll just Sherlock it out on his own.

First order of business is to figure out the scope, and as he suspected, the issue is limited only to the compound. The Stark logo is still up elsewhere, just not here. Everywhere else in the world the logo is being defaced normally, with sharpies and spray paint. With some statistical analysis, he discovers that the disappearances seem to have started near the residence rooms and radiated out from there, to the recreation areas, into the training grounds, then spread. Deciding to investigate the path of the mysterious disappearances himself, he stalks down the hallway only to literally bump into Wanda.

He’s surprised though, because instead of scrambling away with not even a sound, as she had her whole first month here, she greets him with a smile.

“Head in the clouds, Mr. Stark?”

“T-Tony please.” He shakes his head to dislodge the stuttering surprise of even being acknowledged and smiles back at her almost shyly before jumping into a characteristic overcompensation. If only Pepper could see him now.

“How are you adjusting to the compound? Everything to your liking? I’ve been thinking about renovating the kitchen since it got splattered in paint a while back-”

She interrupts him with a laugh.

“It’s warm and there’s lots of good food. I’ve been in much worse places than this.”

He crosses his arms, a faux grimace on his face.

“That’s the highest praise you can give the multimillion dollar Avengers compound? Clearly improvements need to be made.”

“I’m just teasing Mr. Stark. I’ve been teaching Vizh about teasing and got caught up in it. I’ve been feeling much more at home these past few weeks than I have in years. It just took a while. Thank you, for everything.”

She smiles sincerely at him and swans off while he deals with the shock of a full and positive conversation with the most elusive person on the compound. Even counting Natasha. Forgetting about his previous mission, he goes to go order more bean bag chairs.

“I bet she’ll love those- she’s about college age and college students love bean bag chairs.” He mutters to himself.

* * *

 

As usual, it’s around 4 in the morning as Tony makes his way to bed when he’s caught short by the answer to his question right there in front of him. Vision is lasering the Stark logo off of the bean bags he’d had delivered that very day. Usually sent as advertising to colleges, the bean bags were covered in the logo, his name big and bold all over in the script they’d trademarked just for it. Vision was halfway through one of the four bags and judging by the uncharacteristically grumpy look on his face, was clearly getting frustrated by the sheer amount of logos on just one chair.

“Vision!?” Tony can’t help himself from shouting.  “What the hell did I do to piss _you_ off? I thought it was Romanoff or maybe even some of Thor’s weirdness making a comeback, not the only person on the team young enough for me not to have pissed them off yet!”

Vision’s beam of yellow light from his forehead cuts off and he looks up with a guilty look.

“Mr. Stark, I was… hoping you would not notice. I was not trying to upset or alarm you. There is no animosity between us. I had simply…” The android breaths in, and looks down, seeming nervous. Tony sits next to him on the gray carpet, the only illumination between them now the soft blue light of his heart. Taking a breath, Tony tries again, gently.

“What’s the deal here Vision? My name making you upset?”

“Actually… I noticed that it was causing Wanda distress. She never mentioned it, but I saw at least three micro-tremors and clear symptoms of trauma when we would enter certain rooms. I.. ran a statistical analysis with Friday and narrowed it down to a number of likely triggers. Beginning with-”

“Did you know about her and her brother?” Tony cut in.

“I know of her brother’s passing, yes. I felt this may have been the inciting factor for her response, though I was unsure why the Stark logo may have-” Tony cuts him off again with a sigh.

“Well, it’s not my story to tell but it certainly makes sense why she wouldn’t like it. Of course I should have seen that. Thanks for catching my mistake, Vision. You’re shaping up to be a good guy.”  He claps the android on the shoulder even as he unfolds himself from the floor and offers a hand to Vision.

“I-Thank you Mr.Stark. That… means a great deal coming from you.”

Tony slapped his back, nodding to himself even as he begins gathering up the beanbags in his arms. Between them, the beanbags are stacked quickly into a corner and covered with a sheet. When they’re done, Tony seems to find his biting wit again, turning to face him with a smirk.

“There’s easier ways to get rid of a logo, Vision. I was _just_ thinking some orange couches might look good in here. Maybe a chess board too. I think you’d like chess, Vision. Very strategic. Statistical. Maybe Wanda can teach you, huh?”

“I, uh, yes Mr. Stark. I am… sorry for defacing your logo. I assure you I did not mean to render the chairs unusable in any way. They should still be adequate for-”

“No, no Vision. No more Stark logo anywhere in here. This is the Avengers compound and that’s all the logo we need. You tell Wanda she doesn’t need to worry about that anymore. Not on uniforms, not on my coffee cup, nothing. You feel free to tell me if I missed anything, but from now on there’s a no Stark policy. I want her, all of you, to feel comfortable here. Now go to bed already.”  
“Thank you, sir but I believe you require sleep much more than I.”

“You’re probably right about that. Well, I’m going to iron out a few details, but I’ll be in bed soon. Goodnight Vision. Keep taking care of her.”

“I will endeavor to, Mr.- Tony. Good night.”  

**Author's Note:**

> In Ye Olden Times, I would have called this a drabble series, but I'm not sure if that's accurate. They'll be various lengths and about whatever little bit of Wanda/Vision's relationship I wanted to explore more today.


End file.
